


Tristan goes to a party

by Cteklite



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25949134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cteklite/pseuds/Cteklite
Summary: Have you ever been in a situation with no good outcome?





	Tristan goes to a party

“Hey, are you awake?” Tristan rolls over in his bed, still wearing the clothes he collapsed in. His phone screen is lit up, with a single message on it.

  
“No,” he replies.

“Ha ha, funny. Look out your window o3o”

  
Tristan rolls further and stumbles off his mattress, rubbing his eyes. Still holding his phone, he gazes through the dirty window. In the driveway are two of his friends in front of a car, smiling and waving. He goes back to texting.

  
“It’s so late, why are you here,” he sends.

  
“Party bitch now get down here”

  
“I want to sleep”

  
“Then pass out at the party”

  
This would go on all night. Tristan looks at the little pink hearts next to the name of the person he’s texting, then sighs in defeat and grabs his beanie, forcing it over his messy hair. He snuck downstairs, past his father sleeping on the couch and moving carefully around the bottles littered around. Not bothering to lock the door, he makes his way down to the car where his friends are waiting.

  
“Tristan! What, didja fall asleep as soon-” Jack is interrupted by Tristan placing a hand over his mouth.

  
“Shush. I just woke up. Please be quiet.” His tired eyes look over the two friends. Jack, the extrovert who basically forced him into friendship by holding him hostage in a conversation, and Liam, who probably had a personality beyond his planned military service, but Tristan wasn’t about to go digging for it. “Where’s-”

  
“Tristan, dude!” The passenger door pops open, and a familiar toothy grin looks up at him, coercing a smile from him. Mara, energetic as ever, eagerly patted the passenger seat. “I saved you the best seat!”

  
“She wouldn’t let us sit there.” Liam shakes his head. “Kept it clean just for you.” He pats Tristan’s shoulder and climbs into the back of the car, muttering. “Lucky bastard.”

  
“C’mon, we can have fun tonight, man. We’re finally out!” Jack spreads his arms, smiling wide and walking backwards into the car. Tristan sits in the passenger seat, almost immediately falling asleep again. The seats in Mara’s old sedan were unreasonably comfortable, and she had a strangely calming effect on Tristan… Not that he was ever perceived as anything but relaxed.

  
Fading in and out of consciousness, Tristan watched the streetlights go by. The bumps in the road provided brief shocks to make sure he didn’t pass out completely. The conversation between his friends was no more than white noise this late. Before he realized it, the car had stopped in front of a large house.

As his friends got out, Tristan leaned on the car door, staring at the house through the window. Mara placed her hand on his shoulder. “Hey, big guy, you okay? If you’re tired, you can just stay in here.”

  
“No, I’m…” He brushed off her hand and opened the car door. “I’ll go in. You already got me out here.”

  
“If you say so!” Mara shuts off the car and eagerly hops out, circling around and latching on to Tristan. “Escort me in like you’re a rich guy going to an award show and I’m your plus one.”

  
“Tch.” Tristan wraps his arm around her shoulder and slowly walks in, resisting a smile. The party inside the house is far less chaotic than he anticipated, but very packed and claustrophobic. A blacklight hanged from the wall, making various objects and stains glow, and electronic music pounded at the back of Tristan’s head.

  
“Dude, you’ve still got that stain on your jacket!” Mara dug her finger into his back, sending shivers through his body. “What is that, juice? Gotta be some kinda fruit juice.”

  
“Chocolate milk.”

  
“Pfft!” Mara covers her mouth. “How’d you get it on your back?”

  
“I wasn’t the one drinking it. Last year, some guy tripped and spilled it on me.” Tristan squinted. The light was hurting his eyes. “Hey, can we sit down somewhere? I’m still half-asleep.”

  
“Here, this way, I see a free spot!” Mara grabs Tristan’s arm with both of her hands and pulls him through the crowd; a buzzing, shuffling hive of activity, covered with the stench of cheap alcohol. In the midst of it all, Tristan was sitting down on an old leather couch, torn in some places. He didn’t know exactly when he sat down, but he could sit there forever.

  
Mara was stretched across his lap, looking up at him. “You awake yet?”

  
“I dunno, I think I could bear to sit here for a few more hours.” He runs his hand over her head.

  
“Pbth.” Mara blows a raspberry at him and pokes his nose. “I’m thirsty.” She gets off his lap and stands up. “You want a drink?”

  
“Water, please.”

  
“Psh, neeeerrrrrrrrd.” Mara winks and walks off. Tristan is left alone, staring into the mass of people. The music faded into white noise, and the seconds felt like hours. He snapped out of it when the weight of another person jumping on the couch made him bounce.

  
“Dude, where’s Mara? Aren’t you two, like, inseparable?” Jack leans over, holding a red plastic cup as Tristan stops himself from falling off the couch.

  
“Uh- she went to get drinks.”

  
“Ah.” Jack yawns, stretching out on the cushions. “Hey man… What’re you gonna do now that we’re finally done? College?”

  
“I don’t know. I’m gonna figure it out eventually. Probably.” He looked away. “Maybe… Music, or something, I guess.”

  
“Oh, yeah, I saw you talking to that Asian girl, the one with the mask. How long did it take you to work up the courage?” Jack nudges him jokingly.

  
“A while. I just asked her how I should start, any guide books or whatever.”

  
“And?”

  
“I’m going to the library tomorrow to pick up a few. I think there’s an old guitar in my dad’s garage I can use.”

  
“Nice, dude! Hey, send me a free copy of your first album when it releases, would ya?”

  
“Psh.” Tristan waves off the comment. “What about you? What’re you doing?”

  
“I think I’m in the same boat as you, dude.” Jack wiggles his cup, then takes a drink from it. “Don’t know. I think… First opportunity I see, I’m gonna take it, no second-guessing myself. Even if it looks stupid, y’know?”

  
“How drunk are you?” Tristan looks into the cup. It’s nearly empty.

  
“I dunno man, just… Ya gotta take your shot. Even if it looks bad at first, it’s gonna lead to good stuff, right?”

  
“You filter out that beer, Jack.” Tristan pats his friend on the shoulder and stands up. “I’m gonna go find Mara.”

  
“Take yer’ shot…” Jack yawns again.

  
Pushing his way through the crowd, Tristan squinted. The blacklight made distinguishing one person from another difficult. Thankfully, the drinks table wasn’t too hard to find. A new problem arose- Mara is nowhere to be seen. Scanning around, Tristan sees two arms holding cups. “Mara,” he thinks. “She must be stuck in the crowd.”

  
Moving his way over, her situation becomes more clear. She’s been pushed up against a wall by someone- a guy taking advantage of the fact she’s holding two drinks. She’s trying to move away, but the guy won’t let up.

  
“I’m trying to- hey, move, please? Excuse me!” Mara’s face is upturned in disgust and discomfort.

“C’mon- just one, just-” whoever this guy is, he’s trying to kiss her.

  
“Hey!” Tristan shouts, but the party is too loud. Neither Mara or the guy hear him. As he gets closer to the situation, Jack’s words ring in the back of his head. Was this one of those “shots” he was talking about? Or maybe he was just too drunk to not sound like a conceited dick.

  
For a brief moment, time seemed to slow down. Tristan’s left arm extends. It reaches out, and grabs the guy’s shoulder. He turns around, putting on a very awkward snarl. Without thinking, Tristan’s right hand shoots forward, landing square on the guy’s chin.

  
As he falls backward, the crowd jumps back in shock, making a clearing. Though the music plays, all conversation has ceased. The aggravator gets to his feet. “The ffffuck are you thinking?” Before Tristan can respond, he throws a punch. Tristan steps to the left as the guy’s weak punch misses by about two feet.

  
“Tristan- dude-” Mara stutters.

  
“I’ll handle this. Just… Go, wait.”

  
“Who do you think you are?” The guy shouts. “Turn that fuckin’ music off!” He barks at the crowd. Shortly after, the music quiets down, and is silenced. “Do you know who I am?” He gets in Tristan’s face.

  
“Can’t say I care. Did you know you were trying to kiss my girlfriend?” Tristan and the man are at the same height, but he is remarkably more composed than the man.

  
“Can’t say I care!” The man mocks Tristan. “You wanna take this outside?”

“I’d rather apologize for hitting you.” Tristan looks at the bruise forming on the guy’s face. “There’s still time to enjoy the party and move on.”

  
“Fuck that! Outside, now!” The man points at the door, and Tristan sighs, turning around. After barely taking his first step, Tristan stumbles when he’s lightly bumped in the back. Turning back around, he sees the guy looking at his own fist, stunned.

  
“Outside, huh?” Tristan reaches out.

  
“Wh- no, wait, wait- OW!” Tristan grabs the guy’s hair, and pulls him around, flinging him to the floor. He tries to throw another punch as he scrambles to his feet, but his face is met by Tristan’s knee. He continues stumbling backwards, and the crowd continues to make room. “I’m gonna kill you, ya slimy ginger cu-” Tristan kicks at the guy’s ankle, and he falls over on his side. Tristan crouches down and turns the guy on his back, gripping his shoulder. Before he can speak more or defend himself, Tristan drives his fist into his face. Then again. And again, and again, and again. Tristan lost count of how many punches he threw. Black splotches appeared under the blacklight. The guy struggled, but couldn’t throw off Tristan.

  
After a while, Tristan gets pulled off. His knuckles are numb, and the guy is barely moving. “Jesus Christ, calm the fuck down!” Liam is lifting him up by his arms. Tristan doesn’t struggle, but he doesn’t respond or takes his eyes off the guy. “Hey, lights! Someone turn on the lights!”

  
The blacklight shut off, and seconds later, the house’s lights turn on. Tristan widens his eyes in shock as he sees what he’s done. There’s blood on the floor, around the guy he was just beating. He’s writhing in pain and covering his face. Tristan frees himself from Liam’s grip and looks at his hands, also covered in blood.

  
“I…” He searches for words. “He was… On Mara…” He looks into the mumbling crowd. Mara is looking at him, still holding the cups, but with a shocked expression on her face. “I just… Wanted… To…” He gets choked up, and starts marching forward. He pushes his way through the crowd, staring at the ground. He throws the door open, and walks past the car. He keeps walking.

  
Tristan doesn’t know where he’s going. He doesn’t care. His life has just changed course.

* * *

Tristan grips the last punk’s head and they wrestle for a bit. Tristan soon gains the upper hand, and throws him into a wall. As the punk falls on his behind, Tristan finishes the fight with a swift heel to the face. The punk shakes, then stops moving, bleeding from his nose and mouth. Tristan grits his teeth and looks at his arm. The cut looks worse than it feels. “I’ll live,” he tells himself.

  
He crouches down and rifles through the trio’s pockets. They’d originally cornered him in hopes of taking his money. They soon learned that Tristan wasn’t the one being robbed. A hungry man will resort to any means if pushed far enough.

  
“These guys aren’t a good example of it, but,” a voice speaks from the alleyway entrance, causing Tristan to stand up quickly. “Fighting in a gang’s a lot safer than fending for yourself on the streets.”

  
“You the boss of these kids?” Tristan grips a wallet in his left hand.

  
“Nah. This is just trash.” A slightly chubby man steps over some garbage and approaches Tristan. “I’ve been looking for some muscle. Come with me. I’ll keep you fed and off the streets.”

  
“Pft.” Tristan spits on the ground. “I ain’t no street puppy you can just adopt.” He goes back to sifting through the punks’ clothes.

  
“No, clearly. How long has it been since you slept under a real roof?” That causes Tristan to freeze. It had been a while. “Ah, that must be ringing some bells. I have a guy who owes me a favor. Just come with me. Put that fighting instinct to good use. I can get you a decent apartment for now.”

  
Tristan’s eye twitches and his lip trembles. It felt like so long since any kindness was shown. He looks at the man, who is extending his hand. He thinks about the offer for a few seconds. Shelter. Food. It wasn’t the safest life… But he had to take this shot. No more second-guessing.

  
He took the man’s hand and shook it.


End file.
